


Omen's Lover

by Skullszeyes



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Anorexia, Bad Decisions, Crying, Dark, Depression, Developing Friendships, Dissociation, Drunk Dialing, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Consensual Kissing, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, Possessive Behavior, Short, Stalking, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Arthur meets a girl and their relationship itself deteriorates as their feelings are realized.





	1. Stupid Girl

Call it what it is: an act of violence on oneself when you can no longer hold in the torment of the mind, to hide the truth behind a mask, a smile, a lie. She screamed in the alley with pain and rage mixed together, her fingers dug into her brown hair, and her entire body was tense, bent slightly as she let out harsh pants that reverberated throughout her body.

It looked, from afar, like one crumbling within the soul, trying its hardest to claw itself from that dark depth filled with ice water numbing every sensation. The transformation of the normalcy stretched, leaving scars behind, it rearranged itself in its destruction.

He was hesitant, afraid in the cold afternoon wind that she might shrivel and rip apart like paper and blow away. Except she stayed where she was, shaking and breathing heavily. The moment he stepped in front of her, clearing his throat and almost reaching for her, she raised her head, her dark hair fell to the side as her eyes met his. They were brown, and her skin was tawny, cheeks wet with tears. She was shuddering, disturbed by her own mind, but he could see something else within.

A growling, snarling, creature—a wolf—close to losing control.

“A-Are you okay?” he asked.

She sniffled, wiping the tears from her face and sucking in a stuttered breath. “No, but I’ll be fine,” she told him. She crossed her arms over her chest, tightening the long dark coat around her body, her eyes fell to the cement, to their shoes.

“Come home with me,” he said.

She tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowed, the thoughts wound tight before she gave a nod.

He would’ve called her stupid, if it weren’t for the lurking shadow resting inside of her, sizzling the rain from the air around them as he led her down the street.

He would have called her stupid if there was a definite reason to her breakdown, to her tears, to her wrath. And he knew there must be something underneath the surface.

He brought her back to his home where he grabbed a blanket from the closet and covered her up on the couch. Her head turned, neck exposed, old imprints lingering around her collarbone. She closed her eyes, and all he could think of was that she was a stupid girl, until he looked into her coat she left on the floor beside the couch.

She had a knife on her, a switchblade with old blood.

Not many girls like her were so stupid, but wolves usually are predatory, they were dangerous, and they didn’t need their claws to kill, their fangs did just fine on their own.

 


	2. Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wakes up and Arthur gives her back her knife.

She’s tired when she wakes, a soft blanket covers her body as she pushes it back. Blinking away the sleep that still resides and glances around the room. There’s a chill lingering around her, and she rubs her arms. She was angry, and it still breathed inside of her like a dragon ready for the kill. 

There’s a sound, soft and low as she rises to her feet and follow where it’s coming from. The sound grows stronger, a grunt leaving their lips, and she understands it as frustration when she appears in the hall, standing in the dim lighting as she stares at the frail body of the man before her. He’s in the bathroom, fixing something on his shirt, or maybe it was his pants. She isn’t sure, she can’t see the rest of him. 

She stares at his back, the bone protruding against the skin, thin as paper, pale under yellow light. She had known people who had starved themselves, burned themselves, cut into the skin where it would pull apart. She had known them, and she had known herself to understand the cause.

She turned away from him and walked slowly to the couch where she found her coat lying on the end. She picked it up, reached inside for the knife and found it was gone. 

_Where is it?_

“You’re awake…”

She looked up at him, exhaustion tensing her body as thoughts twist inside of her until she can’t think of anything else besides the one protection she had.

“Where is my knife?” she asked him.

He was now wearing a shirt, it looked rumpled with an old brown stain at the hem of his sleeve. He fidgeted, awkward as they both resided in the dim shadow. 

“Did you want it back?” he asked, looking away from her but she didn’t miss the flicker of frustration and worry, the strain of it stretching too hard as he moved toward the kitchen. 

She pulled on the jacket, the security wrapping around her body. She followed him into the kitchen where he gives her back the knife. He’s still twitchy, the sure sign that he didn’t want to give the knife back. He’s apprehensive, but she’s more so since he had taken it from her. Dug into her pockets when she had fallen asleep after what she had done yesterday. The cold rain had stained her skin, reminded her of dark alleys and lonely paths under grey knotted clouds. 

“Here…” he said, reaching for a slip of paper and a pen, he struggles for a moment for ink, but it comes out in stilted swirls before he passes it to her. “If you need anymore...help. You can call me.” 

He’s insistent, and she takes the paper, folding it and placing it inside her jacket pocket. She stares at him for a second, glimpsing at a lonely disturbed man and gives him a small smile.

“Thank you...Arthur.”


	3. Beer Bottles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was uncomfortable, but when she returned home, she found a bigger mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates. 
> 
> I was kind of hoping to watch Joker than continue onto the next chapters. Oh wells. :)
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

Her mother once told her that she was wild like a dream. All the fairy tales with their twists were hers to use, to cup in her hands, to hold against her chest. The princess becoming the dragon, the knight turning to acid in her veins, in the beating of her heart, only to destroy her, to melt her into nothing, not even a remnant was left, besides the rumors and lies from those who feared her stayed, they sang in hollow screams, and cold wind that made the sharp edges of mountains. She wanted him to stay, the knight from her dreams, to stay within her, but it was never enough, not when he became cold and empty like the beer bottles that littered her mother’s bedroom, and sat beside the old brown couch with its strange stains, and pulled seams. 

It almost felt normal to her when her mother introduced her father many times as she aged. And his oily black eyes captivated the shadows that lingered around the hollow of her body, where even the soft scars had healed somehow belonged to him. 

It left her numb, as if she was already used, the words punctured her, the itch for more that could break the skin, to feel the slightest pleasure, and soon even that disgusted her. 

After she left Arthur’s home, she felt the same fears and pain crawling under her clothes. She scolded herself softly in the emptiness of the hall that led to her apartment. How could she let a strange man who watched her scream in a dirty alley lead her back to his place? He let her sleep on the couch that looked similar to her mother’s. It reminded her of so much, but she was too cold, with slivers of glass stuck inside her skin, to truly think of her actions, to back away, to tell him no until her knife was gone from the inside of her pocket.

She should’ve known, but she didn’t, and she was a stupid girl for letting it happen. 

She took out the key from her coat pocket. Gotham was cold, clouds covered the sky, the winds were harsh, and she had walked those streets on too many occasions when her mother kicked her out. Sometimes for no reason, other times when she returned to the house drunk or high. 

It was the only place she could return too. A rotting home, suffocating her with its revulsion. 

The lock came loose and she pushed the door open, only spotting her neighbor watching her from the crack in his door, and she closed it shut. He was always watching her, the same oily dark eyes, the crease in his forehead, the black hair that shadowed his face.

She frowned at the mess in her apartment and realized someone had been inside. She wandered around, the food was on the floor, the juice she made the other night was empty, and the sandwiches she hoped to eat were gone, pieces left by the garbage. She followed the mess toward her bedroom, and knew right away who it was. 

The beer bottles and stench of cigarette’s were too heady to ignore, and when she slowly opened the door to look inside. 

Her mother was sleeping in her bed, drunk, her puke laid on the floor, splatters on her blankets. She was a mess. Her own hair was stringy and brown, too thin, yet her gaunt face still held a bit of beauty, but she wasn’t so sure if her mother cared. 

“Why are you here?” she whispered.


End file.
